Source: Pixabay
The sweet aroma of beans and casserole filled the Sunday evening air. Someone close by was cooking, and cooking good too. But I wasn't hungry. My stomach ached instead, with fear, with indecision.
I could feel the evening breeze caress my face, I heard the leaves sway as the day slowly came to an end. Yet I wasn't calm, I couldn't be. The cold hard steel held out in front of me made sure of that.
"Boy, take this. I ain't telling you twice."
I looked at Chris. He was three years older than me, the second out of four boys in our home. One of who was dead, Ben. I mean, his death was the very reason why we were here in the first place, and why Chris was presently holding out a gun in front of me, asking me to wield it.
But I wasn't sure yet if I wanted to. I didn't know if it was right, if I should, or could...
"Boy, if not for Ben, then for Dad."
Those words woke me up. Suddenly I was seven again, running across the fields with my dad, chasing insects I would never catch, and trying to kick balls that were way stronger than my foot.
The casserole in the air added to my nostalgia. I remembered that day again. I remembered it clearly it was almost like I was there. And of course I remembered the five of them.
They had brought with them the sour smell of whisky when they came, and it had annoyed me, because I loved the smell of mama's tomato casserole. I remember dad asking me to go to the back where mama was cooking, and i also remember being stubborn. But I had left anyway, only to come back running with the sound of the gunshots. I, a heavily pregnant mama, and Chris...
But there was nothing we could do. Papa was laid out in a pool of his own blood, his leg twisted cruelly beneath him.
Ben was away in school at the time, and he had sworn revenge when the news had got to him. But 8 years later, and Ben too had been killed. Same men, same way.
The more I thought about it, the more I remembered their faces. In hindsight, I could see now that they had no indecision about why they had come to our house that day. Neither did they when they returned for Ben.
I don't even know why I ever hesitated. It was never a choice after all. The wildlife was all I could have chosen.
I caressed the smooth steel of the pistol as I took it of Chris' hand. We had five murders to carry out.
#SladenSpeaks
#IfWordsWereNudes
#PalNet
Written for 
